


Writing Prompt: Red

by Yukiro



Series: Adventures of the Crown [3]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Childhood Friends, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Mild Blood, Trauma, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-05-09 19:54:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14722583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yukiro/pseuds/Yukiro
Summary: Set during a time of War against mages. Fenryn learns for the first time that war is uncaring and unjust. While he accepted the death of evil magic-users that would harm innocent people, he soon learns that not all mages are evil. Even so, he had to kill them. This is the aftermath of one such battle.





	Writing Prompt: Red

Writing prompt: Red

 

A few clouds hung in the air, as the setting sun turned them from a brilliant white to a softer shade of pink. Red was the colour of the roses that grew along the walls of a crimson-stained house. A youth stood alone in the garden. His blade had long since dropped to the floor at his side. The blade covered in the same sticky blood that coated the man's hands a dark shade of red.

If one thing never changed in this world, it was war.

War had forced him here, to this home where enemies of the crown had taken refuge. Fighting against men who raised the dead, or hurt innocent people for their own gain had been one thing but this time it was different. The people here had gone to those evil men for help when no one else would offer them aid. They had been outcasts, shunned by their families and friends for being cursed with the luck of having magic.

He knew they had not wanted to harm others, but because of what they were, and who they had allied with, he had been given little choice but to follow the order to kill them all. No one had been spared, not even the children who didn't understand why they had to die and as the life of the last slowly faded away at the youth's hands, he knew. Even if they became possessed by the most dangerous of spirits, no one deserved to die for something out of their control.

The young man knew that this war had to end soon so that he could hopefully change his father's mind. It would never be an easy task, and very few would see or understand his point of view, thinking him too soft, too innocent... but there was nothing soft or innocent in what he had done.

At fifteen he had lost any sense of the word 'innocent' in him. Looking down to the blood-soaked hands, he knew these poor people would not be the first, nor the last to spill their blood by his hands. The only thing he could do was honour their bravery with a silent prayer to the Goddess of Death.

Bending down to take his sword once more into his hands, the youth turned to exit the garden. An older man of twenty ran up to him, his face bleeding from a cut upon his face. More red to stain the pathway. More red to fill his mind with thoughts of an unjust world.

“Fenryn, are you alright!? Are you hurt?” The man asked him. Rough hands held the youths cheeks as the other man looked him over with intense worry.

Offering the man a faint smile, the boy Fenryn replied with a broken quietness, “I'm fine, Vaughan... you worry too much.”

The man frowned at Fenryn. He glanced behind to the house, but sticky hands held his own cheeks. Covering them with more blood as they pulled his attention once more to the other man. “Fenryn...” Vaughan began, his voice laced with concern. Fenryn had not used his nickname, but more troubling was the fact that Fenryn would not allow him to look at the carnage in the garden.

Keeping Vaughan's attention in place, Fenryn said, “we need to end this war now. It has almost been a year. Enough is enough.” His ice-blue eyes kept their focus on Vaughan's own hazel eyes. He seemed unhinged by what had happened, but the shaking of his hands gave away his true feelings.

Vaughan moved closer to the youth, his hands moving to wrap around the boy's frame and into a tight embrace. “We'll end the war soon, my Prince. I promise.” He whispered softly. He knew that the boy had been traumatised by whatever had happened here, but being of royal birth, he was unable to show his emotions openly.

And so the two stood, silent for a time. The sky turning from pink to scarlet as if to mirror the crimson stains around them.


End file.
